Unexpected
by aw15
Summary: Thea Morrow is playing to win. It's her last year of Hogwarts, and as the newest Ravenclaw Quidditch captain, she's not about to let anything get into her way. Not her American heritage, her overbearing mother, or her ever painful penchant for bad luck. Not even the devilishly handsome Gryffindor captain, Oliver Wood. Let me rephrase: especially not devilishly handsome Oliver Wood.
1. Prologue: The will to win is everything

**Platform 9¾, King's Cross Station, London UK**

**10:48 AM, 1st day of term**

As I walked towards the train, a feeling of contentment washed over me. This was going to be my year. Ravenclaw Quidditch captain, prefect, and a shoe in for a coveted Ministry position after Hogwarts. I was preparing to get onto a train to my beloved school of almost six years, with my best friends, some of the brightest young witches in Britain. This was my year. The year of Thea. The Thean Age.

Yet when I woke up, something felt off, like the day was in some way plotting against me or something evil like that. Mondays man... they can be pretty bloody evil. Up till now the evidence towards some sort of conspiracy included a painfully desolate box of Fruitloops in the morning, a small yet never the less devastating injury from when my foot had been hit painfully by a corner as I came through onto the platform, and when I spent a good 20 minutes fixing my stuff after some over excited parents pushed my trolley over without a care. Probably another scheme by the ever-infuriating Oliver Wood, decided he'd plop down an extra corner where one _most definitely_ does not belong, and send some crazies my way. And eat my cereal, though I'm not a 100% sure how he could pull that one off. Scottish bastard manages to ruin everything.

"Well if it isn't one miss Thea Morrow! You're looking delightfully glum, sugar-plum, anything wrong? Did daddy's plantation run-out of sweet tea?"

Ah… speak of the devil. For some reason everbody in Britain is convinced that being an American means you must spend your summers on the family plantation in Alabama. Even though I'm pretty clearly from Massachusetts.

I gritted my teeth, and turned to face him with a nice big sugary-sweet smile,

"Oh honey, it's so sweet of you to worry about my wellbeing, especially while you're in this time of personal crisis. I mean we all heard about the little incident with Marissa… Really, I was absolutely just sick with worry!"

"Us captains do have to stick together, you know," I added. The astonished look on his fucking annoyingly gorgeous face told us both I'd won this round. Nothing like some good old faux cheer.

"You're a- what?" Oliver stuttered, visibly flustered.

The captainship was really my biggest weapon. Oliver cared about nothing more that Quidditch, even Marissa Chenning didn't measure up, not to say that mattered now. Now as you don't quite understand the Thea-Oliver dynamic just yet, you may be wondering; Thea, isn't this just rubbing salt into the wound? Aren't you being a bit mean? To that I say, yes. Yes, I'm being a bit petty, but the prick has been toying with me since the beginning of bloody third year when we first met. It was the first match of the season, I was the new Ravenclaw seeker, he was the new Gryffindor keeper. Let's just say it didn't end well, and by that I mean he ended up with a giant bronze eagle on all the backs of his pants, and my hair was a brilliantly attractive combination of Scarlet and gold for a solid week. We have since simmered down with the tomfoolery, but the competition is still very much there. To make matters worse we're both rival Quidditch captains this year. What I'm trying to say is that Oliver is more than willing to play dirty. Last year during a fun impromptu interhouse not-for-points quidditch match he charmed my goggles to fog up rendering me wholly blind whenever I chanced upon a cloud and had to put them on.

"You didn't hear? Oh well, I don't blame you for being a bit cut-off after that sweet girl dumped you. We would all need some recovery time after a heartbreak like that. No need to be ashamed of your emotions dear."

I threw another blindingly sweet smile at him, and... bam! Suck on that Oliver Wood. 2 points for Thea, ladies and gentleman!

Looking even more annoyed he retorted "Flitwicks really gone nutters this time hasn't he. Honestly! Who would make someone so painfully insufferable the decider of their quidditch fate?"

I simply smirked, and then paused for a second before brushing up real close to him as I left to board the train. Bringing my lips painfully close to his ear, I whispered softly to him,

"See you on the pitch."


	2. Brevity is the soul of wit

**Hogwart's Express, Somewhere in the UK**

**A time, September 1st**

It was all too soon becoming apparent to me that long gone were the days of curling up quietly with tea and a book. Currently a fiendishly beautiful yet exceptionally mean redhead was giving the token minority child of our group the third degree.

"Oh put a sock in it Samadhi! We all know you and James Rooker were making out in an empty compartment! Don't you even try it with me right now! I mean hones-""

"OK FINE! I WAS MAKING OUT WITH JAMES! YOU WIN!_ JUST PLEASE SHUT UP!_"

I peered pointedly over my quidditch notes, slightly peeved at my two best friends, "Ladies. Simmer."

"Go fight with Oliver, yeah?" Ver shot back at me with an annoyed glare, and turned back to their bicker-gossiping. Honestly I couldn't care less about whether James Rooker deserves to be rated an 8 or 9 in terms of lip-action, but you don't see them asking me. Probably best anyway to distance myself from the crazy.

In fact while we're talking about the resident schizo Ravenclaw seventh years, let's have a line up, shall we?!

On the right, we have one miss Veronica "Ver" Woods. Hot, smart, annoyingly confident, sly, persistent... a shockingly good keeper, she's the girl who seduces you and then runs off with your Mercedes. For fun.

On the left is Samadhi Chetan. The complete opposite in everything except intelligence (and looks), Samadhi hates sports, and is often hilariously oblivious. Normally she's sweet and subdued, but when she yells, you don't forget it. The girl has lungs of an opera singer on her.

And then there's me. The ice to Ver's fire, I'm the most sensible of the trio. Others say cold and ruthless, I say responsible and competitive. Thea Morrow isn't a girl who's afraid to get what she wants. And I see no shame in that. Subdued is for the Samadhi's of the world.

"Hey ice queen, hows the quidditch planning going? Pray tell, am I still on the team?"

"Stop calling me ice queen, homewrecker."

"OI! I am not a _homewrecker_! God you kiss with one married guy over the summer, and all of a sudden you're reduced to being some sort of whore."

"It's disturbing that you don't realize how bad that sentence sounded."

"Ice Queen"

"Homewrecker"

"Ice Queen"

"Homewrecker"

At this point even the compartment next to us had heard enough. I noticed the sound of their door open, and immediately froze. The best seats were always in Gryffindor territory, and after Oliver and I had our extremely public little meeting in the station it occured to me that I was bound to get attacked by an angry mob of obsessed Oliver fangirls. Normally this wouldn't even be a bother since everyone subconsciously understood that only people with a death wish messed around with me, but here on the train, they had the upper hand. This was Gryffindor territory, and the train wasn't exactly the largest place for a showdown to occur.

As I was mulling over my impending death, a plucky second year was marching self-righteously into our compartment.

"Could you _please_ SHUT UP!" she screamed at me and Ver, tiny hands on her tiny hips, strikingly familiar amber eyes glaring.

I looked up at her with a confused but icy look. This girl clearly did not get how things worked around here. Lesson number one of survival; Don't scream at a group of seventh years. Period.

"No. Five points from Gryffindor. Get out."

"I will NOT get out, especially when you three deserve to be sued for bloody noise pollution!"

Was she mental or something?

"Kid, I hope for your sake you realize that you're digging you're own grave right now."

I mean, really, one would think she'd realize by now that in terms of seniority she was at the bottom, and the girls she was screaming at are perched firmly at the top.

And then it all became crystal clear, including the familiar eye color. Oliver Wood had just walked in and placed a brotherly hand on her shoulders. Of course they're related. From a distance they wouldn't seem to be anything more than distant cousins, if that. Her hair was chocolate brown, and was really a slight little thing. Oliver was a more sandy brunette, with an athletic build. But up close, they were strikingly similar. Both Wood siblings had the same glowing brown eyes, and the annoyed expression they were currently sporting was scarily similar.

"What's going on here?"

"Would you look at that." I smirked at her, "You're Wood's sister? Make those five points fifteen."

Spinning around towards Ver and Samadhi, I informed them of where I was about to go, "I've got a prefect's meeting. See you later."

I got up from my seat, and pushed Wood out of the doorway.

"Keep your mini-me in check."

* * *

**History of Magic classroom, Somewhere in Scotland, UK**

**3:30 PM, September 2nd**

"For this reason, witch-hunters never succeeded in eliminating any true witches and wizards. One example of this is during the Salem trials in early 16-"

My furiously concentrated notes were interrupted by a sharp jab in the side from the seat next to me. I looked over to see the only Slytherin I actually liked, Finn Callidius hiding a small but distinct smirk. Unfortunately it was too late to ignore him so I (of course) turned to revenge. Taking my quill I jabbed him really hard in an exposed patch of skin on his arm, leaving not only a nasty looking red mark but a small splotch of ink. He sucked his breath in hard, but much to my disappointment, didn't make a scene. Slightly miffed by his unflinching poise, I returned my focus back to the class, which Binns was unfortunately in the process of ending.

"Bastard, made me miss the rest of the lesson." I muttered underneath my breath, causing Finn's smirk to grow into a Cheshire cat grin.

Rolling my eyes, I pushed my notebook into the pristine bookbag at my feet. It gave me a small amount of pride that despite being a vintage, dramatically patterned find from my grandmother's attic, the bag remained in near perfect condition.

"How's the first day of classes been treating you Thea-bear?" Finn's Cheshire cat grin grew by a factor of ten, while the flat, unamused look I was currently sporting morphed into something closely resembling the desire to kill. He knew how much that stupid nickname bothered me.

"Just peachy Finny-cakes."

We slowly ambled out of the classroom and into the now packed corridor, in no mood to hurry. I had just finished my last class of the day, and Finn had chosen to procrastinate the inevitable, by which I mean Herbology, a class we both hated with passion.

"How 'bout your first day as captain of the ever illustrious, ever second Ravenclaw quidditch team?"

And the grin got wider.

"You're funny, you know that?" I asked with sarcasm.

"Yeah?"

"No."

"Hey, you can't argue with results sweetheart."

"Yeah but I can punch you."

My mood had slowly deteriorated ever since I woke up this morning to find a copy of our esteemed school publication (a product of Ravenclaw House), the Ravenclaw Review, with a picture of me while sleeping on the front cover. The headline read; _Thea Morrow behind closed doors._ When I get my hands on Ver, who just so happens to be the Review's editor, I'll kill her. **_  
_**

Other than that though, I was feeling great. Especially after History of magic, which being my favorite (and best) subject, always left me more self-assured. The bickering was really only because me and Finn just had a friendship filled mostly with mean but affectionate banter.

"When are you having try outs?" At the mention of actual Quidditch things, we shifted from annoyed quibbling to something more conversational,

"Probably Friday."

Finn nodded lazily, "Ours are the day before."

There was a natural pause in the conversation, and we walked together in silence until Finn broke it again,

"Did you hear about James Rooker and Cassiana Boyce's nasty breakup?"

"Er... sort of."

"How _sort of_? Either you sodding did or you didn't..."

"I had the joy of hearing about Samadhi and James getting it on in an empty train compartment yesterday."

He looked at me with shock, and I merely gave him a knowing look.

"Trust me I'm just as surprised as you are. Apparently he's only an 8. Beats me how he's managed to get his lips on 95% of the girls in this bloody school without being at least a 9."

As his face shook with small laughter, the two of us had reached the split where the we changed directions, him towards class, me towards Madame Hooch's office. I waved goodbye, and turned left, down an essentially deserted corridor. It was time to reserve the pitch for tryouts, and the Quidditch practices we were having over the next while.

Tripping my way down the heavily worn staircase to the ground level, I was accompanied by the sounds of my own annoyed grumbling over the state of the less populated end of our castle. These particular stairs went so long without, I was stuck between slipping on the parts that had been worn down so far they were a hazard, and full on tripping where chunks of the steps had actually fallen out.

While haphazardly fixing my hair, I pulled out the heavily color-coded schedule that I'd put together, and neatly unfolded it in preparation as I ran down. At the very bottom of the staircase I stepped towards the half-open quidditch office, sending light spilling out into the dim corridor.

"Madame Hooch?"

I paused at the door until a "Come in dear," drifted from inside, my cue to enter.

"I'd like to schedule th-"

She looked up at me with a knowing smile, and held out the reservation sheet. "I should have known you'd be the first one to show up."

My tired frown was quickly replaced with a smile I halfheartedly tried to hide. However petty it may sound, I was pretty elated to have first pick. It meant we could get in a bit more practice time then the other houses, instead of being stuck with the leftover slots nobody wanted. And this way nobody will have strong urges to kill me. It would really suck to become known as the girl who sticks her team with 11 pm practices. Being murdered kind of goes against my strategy of being the strict-but-loveable type of captain.

In an infinitely better mood, I handed the fully Thea-fied schedule back to Hooch with a genuine smile now glued to my face. "Thanks, I've got to go write a beginning of term for History of Magic essay now."

"Well good luck on your essay then. I'm glad you're captain this year Thea. I think you'll do really well." My smile widened. She could always sense when I was nervous about something, and knew what to say. It's what made me start to really enjoy first year quidditch, and then gave me enough confidence to try out for seeker in third year.

"Thanks Madame Hooch. It's been making me really nervous lately." That was an understatement. I just stopped having nightmares about various dramatically horrid quidditch situations a few nights. Regardless of my growing anxiety, I waved, and then pranced out of her office, back to the treacherous stairway of doom.

"No problem, just do me a favor and stop drinking so much sugar in that tea of yours!" she shouted teasingly out after me.

"Never!" I shouted back. She probably had a point about the sugar, though. I tended to pour sugar in just about anything that came within an inch of me.  
Strawberries? Sugar. Tea? Sugar. Coffee? You guessed it, Sugar! None of this honey crap gets near _my_ food. It smells great in my body lotion, but just tastes way too strong. Everything you put it in ends up tasting primarily like Bee feces. Yum.


End file.
